My Sexy Time Comes To An End

6 Dec

Little did I know that the last time we were together, was indeed the last time we would be together.  Here is the rest of the story…

After our last night together I was flying high.  We had a great date.  He introduced me to friends.  I felt needed and wanted.  All of the stolen kisses, the sideways glances, the small smiles…this is what it is supposed to be like, right?  The butterflies in the stomach?  The flutters in the chest?  The smile that lights up my face whenever I think or talk about him?  I loved this feeling.  I haven’t felt this in a long while.  I haven’t allowed myself to feel this in a long while.  And I was enjoying every second of it.

Sexy invited me over to his place not too long after that night for drinks and a movie.  I went dressed comfortable, in yoga pants and a tank top.  I had made sure we weren’t going out prior to dressing for the evening!  When I arrived, he gave me a long kiss, and lead me to his living room.  He asked me what I wanted to drink, and I told him a glass of white wine.  We snuggled up under some blankets on the couch, and settled in for the movie.

As things tend to happen when we are together, we began to get physical.  His hands found his way under my tank and I straddled him on the couch.  He put one hand gently on my face and just said “I can’t do this”.

I went still, and I looked into his eyes.  “What?  What did you just say?”

Him: I said I can’t do this anymore.  I still have really strong feelings for my ex-wife, and I am realizing I am projecting them onto you.  And it isn’t fair, to me or you.  So this just can’t happen anymore.

My world felt like it was deflating.  Just when I was finally letting myself care again.  When I was telling myself it was OK to have feelings again.  To give into what was happening, to let go, to not fight.  This happens.  It was shades of Perfect all over again.  I couldn’t handle this, not right now.  Not after that amazing night.  Not after I met friends, not after I was made to feel wanted, appreciated and beautiful.  No.

Me: So none of that was real?  None?  Do I look like your ex-wife?  Is that why you projected?

Sexy had no response to my questions.  I got up off his lap and stood in front of him.  He looked down at the floor.

Me: At least give me the courtesy of looking at me you FUCK while you are telling me I didn’t matter.

Sexy raised his eyes up to meet mine, then promptly lowered them back down.


He looked at me again.

I took a deep breath before I continued.  I said: I was all for a fuck-buddy relationship.  I was all for the fun, physical aspect of all of this.  You changed the rules.  You took me out.  You introduced me to people.  You, you, you.

Him: I’m sorry.  I am.  But I realize I can’t continue like this when I still have feelings for someone else.

Me: You’re sorry?  You are sorry?  So it was all a lie?  All of the touches and kisses?  All of it?  I misread everything that much?

No response from you.  Tears started to run down my cheeks, and there was no fucking way I was going to let you see me cry.  Although I am sure you saw the first few drops.

I went to the foyer and grabbed my coat, shoes, and purse.  I walked out without bothering to slip my shoes on.  Esme!  I could hear as I ran to my car.  Come back, let’s talk!  Please!  Oh now you want to talk?  Fuck off dickwad.

I slammed my car into drive and peeled into the street.  I drove a few miles before I pulled over to the side of the road and let the tears fall freely.  I cried my poor heart out.  I cursed myself out for letting myself feel.  For letting myself get involved.  For letting myself believe he might be different then the other douchebags out there.  I was angry with Sexy, yes, but I was angrier with myself.

Over the course of several days Sexy tried to contact me.  Why this sudden interest in talking?  He left several voice messages and text messages asking me to call him.  I never returned the calls.  I wasn’t interested in reasons.  I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

It was a lesson learned for me.  No more feelings.  Sex is fine.  It’s better than fine, it’s phenomenal.  But when feelings become involved…it’s time to walk away.  I am done with this shit.

Love, Esme


4 Responses to “My Sexy Time Comes To An End”

  1. Cath December 6, 2010 at 8:02 pm #

    What an asshole. I have been there, my friend. 2 years later I still call him the mother fucker. Heartbreak sucks but don’t let this deter you. ❤

  2. ifUseekAmy December 7, 2010 at 7:08 am #

    Oh fuck, I was so hopeful after the previous post. That’s why I am so fiercely pushy about full disclosure and being honest from the beginning. You were fine with it being purely physical and he took it to the next level all the while knowing he still had feelings for his ex. Ugh. I’m sorry this happened to you.

  3. nikki04 December 7, 2010 at 9:33 am #


    Dear gawd I hate this bullshit. Why is it that NO ONE can fucking spend just five fucking seconds to handle their own baggage before they invite someone else into their world?? Why is that so fucking hard??

    My friends wonder why I am such a bitch about people jumping from one relationship to another. Yeah, that’s a great way to get over the last person – put all that shit on someone new.

    I don’t want to be the person you dump on, asshole, simply because you can’t handle your own shit.You do that FIRST – not later. It doesn’t go away, you just end up fucking over the next one.

    Douche titanic.

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